


(Another) Assortment of Han and Leia

by madame_alexandra



Series: Assortment Anthologies [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, F/M, Falling In Love, Ficlet Collection, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 02:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8559589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_alexandra/pseuds/madame_alexandra
Summary: (Another) anthology of short Han/Leia ficlets. Stories are unrelated to one another. There are a couple of angsty ones in here, and one is directly related to something published in the first anthology. Prompted by readers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *Note - if you follow my blog on Tumblr, these are nothing new. I did a (another) fic prompt meme, and I chose some to publish on other sites as well. The original quote that prompted the ficlet will be included at the beginning of each short story (in some cases, very short story).

**Prompt: "Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore."**

* * *

 

If there was one thing Han Solo was getting real damn tired of it was the Princess’ irrational reaction to being rescued. This blasted evacuation from Hoth had to be the umpteenth time she’d started rolling her eyes and gnashing her teeth at him over the _Falcon_ or over his _tactics_ or over his _attitude_ or his _flying skills, and_ he’d had enough. 

He got it – yeah, the _Falcon_ was a disaster, and his flying was – well, he was never actually sure if he was skilled enough to do something until he did it, and okay he was rough, and he swore a lot and teased her – but wouldn’t she rather be on a ship that was acting a little moody than stuck in the busted up command center with Vader creeping closer – snatching her back up?

Scowling, slamming his hands on controls to land and anchor the _Falcon_ in the asteroid cave, he flew out of his seat, his jaw tight, ready to give her a piece of his mind – out running Star Destroyers was tense work, it wasn’t easy, and she didn’t make it any easier with her shrill insults and sarcastic commentary – and if just once he could get a _thank you, Han, I appreciate you rescuing me_ , _Han_ out of her, he’d be satisfied – 

“Hey, Your _Worship_ ,” he snapped, starting in on her the moment he saw her running her hands over something in the aft hold, idly cooling things down and trying to find a leak – the systems had been screaming about a leak, and during one of his maneuvers, she’d run off with Threepio to find it – 

He stood in the archway, glaring daggers into her back. 

“Your Highness,” he provoked again, narrowing his eyes. “You think for once you might wanna throw me some gratitude for keepin’ you in one piece?” he snapped sarcastically. “I know it’s not a floating palace, but this old girl has saved your ass more than once – Princess, I’m talking to you – “

He stepped forward, and reached for her, resting his fingers on her elbow. Immediately, _instantly,_ she jerked her arm back and shoved her elbow hard into his ribs, turning slightly so that he could see the profile of her face. 

Swearing, he clutched at his ribs for a moment, and then started to really light into her – started to, until by chance, he saw her rest her hand on one of the controls she’d been messing with, and he noticed she was shaking.

He noticed – just how _badly_ she was shaking. 

He straightened up, frowning, running his hand over the dull throb she’d elicited in his chest with her arm. He narrowed his eyes on her hand, and after a moment, he swallowed his irritation. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked finally, softening his tone a little. 

She blinked, lowered her head a little, and turned back to the controls, her face pointedly directed away from him. 

“I’m fine.”

The word – _fine_ – scratched out like nails on sandpaper, obviously raw, obviously a lie. He blinked, and noticed how white, even translucent, the skin on the back of her neck looked, and his stomach twisted – 

 _Kriff, Solo,_ he though to himself, closing his eyes with a grimace – _she’s not being a shrew; she’s terrified._

His shoulders sagged a little. Maybe – her acidity in moments like this, a demeanor that seemed cool and even _bitchy_ , was a coping mechanism for visceral fear – she’d been held prisoner by Imperials before; she knew better than anyone, the things that could happen to her – 

“Leia,” he said carefully. He let his hands fall by his sides. “We’re hidden, okay? I’ve got time to breathe, fix the damage I can.”

She didn’t say anything, and he was frustrated at his own attempts to make this situation sound better. He ran his hand over his jaw, and then leaned forward and took her hand off the controls, turning her around. Her hands were still shaking, her face was still white, and her mouth was pressed tightly together.  She curled up her fingers and twisted her hand around, pressing it into his palm tightly. She put her other hand up to her forehead, and leaned forward, resting both the crown of her head and her knuckles on his chest. 

He looked down at her uncertainly, and she shifted her head a few times. He realized, when she stopped, that her lips were moving. He pulled back, hands on her shoulders, and tilted his head, trying to hear her – or read her lips – 

Her lashes fluttered – _I don’t want to go back._

Han tilted his head towards her a little more that was it; over and over, a low whisper; _I don’t want to go back._

“Leia,” he said quietly. 

He hesitated, and put his hand on the back of her head, threading his fingers into her braids very loosely. He drew his thumb in circles at the nape of her neck, stepping closer to her, resting his arm around her shoulders in a gesture that was just enough of a light hug that she could yank away easily. 

“Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore,” he said quietly. “They’re all dead.” 

The whole slew of them who’d overseen her captivity – dead on the Death Star. 

She looked up at him, almost pressing her head back into his fingertips, as if she could absorb the touch, use it to energize her. She pulled back her lips in a tight scowl. 

“Vader’s alive,” she whispered hoarsely. “They’re all the same. They’re all out there,  _lurking_.” 

She swallowed hard.

“They can hurt me.” 

Han squeezed her shoulder gently. 

“Leia,” he said, feeling a little helpless – he was doing his best, he’d gotten her out of the base, off the planet – he was a veritable pro at getting out of impossible spots. “I’m trying to keep you safe. I know it doesn’t look like it,” he muttered, his brow darkening – the _Falcon_ had such inconvenient timing – 

Leia nodded, interrupting him without a word. She pressed her hands to his chest, and fanned her fingers out. 

“I know, Han,” she said thickly. “I…I know. Thank you.” 

Han nodded, but he didn’t so much care about the sentiment anymore – he regretted reading her rage as a lack of gratitude, when he should have realized immediately that it was all a manifestation of how much it scared her to see Imperial troops closing in. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Prompt: "Tell me you need me."**

* * *

 

Losing soldiers was hard – Leia knew it, Han knew it, anyone who had ever fought for freedom, or justice, or anything at all; they knew how hard it was to lose good fighters and good friends. Losing solders in the heat of battle was a given – losing soldiers in peacetime was worse, somehow more brutal. It left more of a feeling of guilt, and anger, such as – _so-and-so made it through the worst of the fight only to die_ – 

One of Han’s pilot colleagues was killed in a training exercise over Coruscant’s largest moon – not just one of his pilots, one of his friends; a smuggler from way back who’d found his way into the Rebellion long before Han had, and ended up vouching for Han during the pre-Endor command panel. Leia had never known him very well, but she knew – she knew how hard it must have hit Han, to lose a friend like that when the war was over, and the future seemed so precariously bright.

She heard about the accident during lunch, and someone told her Han was personally handling it – and naturally, when she got home, though he was subdued, he cracked his charming smile at her, and handled himself well.

Han always – well, save for how comically and chaotically he’d handled himself when he was courting _her_ , or trying to – Han always handled himself so well. He never seemed too bothered by things – not in a way that was callous, but in a way that implied he healthily accepted things and moved on. It unnerved her, sometimes, because he was always there for her worst moments, and he never seemed to have any. It wasn’t that – he repressed them like she did, or struggled to control them, he just seemed – okay; adjusted well; numb to tragedy. 

He’d lost a friend, and Leia expected that sorrow to manifest in a short temper or at least a retreat to the _Falcon_ , but he was home, and acting normal – if a little quieter than usual. 

She worried about him, but then she had to remind herself – he was just like that; not unfazed, necessarily, but strong; durable. 

Laying in bed with him later, listening to his steady breathing, she shifted her head, stretched on her side next to him. 

“Han?” she asked. “Are you okay?” 

He shrugged. 

“No,” he muttered. “He was a young guy,” he said edgily. “Younger’n me.” 

Leia nodded, inching closer. She rested her hand on his chest. 

“I’ll take the afternoon off tomorrow, for the funeral,” she said. “I liked Kreeole.” 

Han shrugged again. 

“S’okay, Leia,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.”

She drew her hand back hesitantly, and turned onto her back. She ran her hand through her hair and sighed quietly, shifting away from him without thinking – he noticed immediately, and turned his head. 

“What?” he asked warily. 

“Han,” she said hoarsely, her voice very soft, “I wish you’d – sometimes I wish you’d,” she broke off.

“ _What_?” he asked, more insistently. 

She closed her eyes, swallowing a bit sourly at how pathetic she thought she sounded. 

“Tell me you need me,” she murmured. “I wish you’d…tell me you need me.” 

She let out her breath, and then stared up above her for a long time, listening to his silence. She shifted her head on the pillow, turning to look at him finally, and her jaw hurt as she searched for words to fill the quiet, to explain.

“I only mean,” she began softly, “I know you _love_ me – but when you’re hurting, do you _need_ me?” she asked. “The way I need you when I’m hurting?” 

She turned on her side, more fiercely. 

“It’s okay if you do,” she assured him. “It isn’t going to – stress me out, or overwhelm me.” She swallowed hard. “I’m not the only one who’s allowed to grieve and be miserable.”

Han looked at her a beat longer and did that – shrug of his, the strong, careful shrug.

“You deal with a lot, Leia.” 

She reached for his hand, clutching it tightly.

“Yes, but I don’t want you to think you can’t lean on me,” she said, her eyes welling up. She laced their fingers together. “You don’t always have to be fine. I can be the one who’s fine sometimes,” she offered.

She gave him a small smile, and he smiled back, lifting a brow a little. His smile faded fairly quickly though, and he swallowed hard.

“His girl wants me to talk at the funeral,” he said gruffly. 

Leia tilted her head, drawing her fingers along his jaw. He shook his head, to indicate he didn’t want to do it. 

“I can’t,” he said grimly. 

Leia gave him a thoughtful look.

“It doesn’t have to be a drawn out speech,” she murmured. “I can help you.”

He shook his head, his jaw tight.

“No, Leia, I can’t,” he said. He sounded out of breath, suddenly. “I can’t – talk about it.” 

His voice wavered just a little, and Leia paused. She drew her thumb in little circles on his jaw and nodded soothingly, pursing her lips. Han closed his eyes and turned towards her, pressing his head into her shoulder heavily. He slid his arms around her tightly, and she noticed a difference in the way he held her – tight, clinging; the way she held onto him, when she was upset. 

He wasn’t the one giving comfort for once, and she sighed in relief, resting her cheek on the crown of his head. 

“He was a _good_ guy, Sweetheart,” Han said hoarsely. “It’s – that ain’t fair.” 

“I know, Han,” Leia murmured, pressing her lips into his hair. She slid her hand into his shirt and pressed it agains his back, snuggling closer to him. “It never is.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Prompt: "You work for me. You are my slave."**

* * *

 

Leia woke with a start – it wasn’t a nightmare, it was just a _start_ , just something. Groggy and disoriented in the dark, she rose slightly on her elbows, listening for something loud that might have woken her, turning her head and blinking to adjust her eyes to the lack of light. Shaking her head, she began to lay back down, reaching for the covers – Gods, she was freezing; not altogether unusual while engaging in interspace travel, but where was the _heat_ – 

Her hand grasped at nothingness, and her brow furrowed, wondering where the covers were. She turned slightly and nearly jumped out of her _skin –_

“Han!”

She started to shout his name in surprise, but at the last moment she swallowed the noise and it was only a startled mouth movement – and she let out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t yelped and woken him. 

She was so used to Han’s absence; she’d forgotten he was back. They’d gotten him back – she’d gotten him _back_. 

He was wrapped up in the sheets and quilt and he appeared to be shivering, and Leia realized all at once that he had inadvertently yanked all of the bedclothes off of her, and that must have been what startled her awake.  She leaned over to press her palm to his neck, his forehead, his cheek – his skin felt awful, clammy and slick with sweat, but underneath that thin, cool sheen was the terrible heat of fever. He was still adjusting post-Carbonite, and her heart ached for him. 

She pulled on his shoulder, turning him onto his back with all her strength. He twisted a little, shying away, brow furrowing in his sleep. She leaned over him and kissed his forehead, unwilling to wake him, hoping to soothe him. 

He woke up anyway, his teeth clenching to avoid chattering. 

“H-hey,” he stammered. 

“Hey,” Leia returned softly. She smoothed her fingers over his brow. “Can you see me?” she asked. 

He shook his head, swallowing hard.

“It’s very dark in here,” she remarked. “I doubt your vision has the capacity to adjust right now.” 

He grunted.

“”M…cold,” he confessed grudgingly, sounding annoyed with himself as he complained. 

“It’s the fever,” Leia murmured. “If I turn the heat on you’ll be suffocating in the next minute – here.”

She sat up, slipping her long-sleeved t-shirt over her head, and sliding her panties down her legs. She rubbed her hands over her shoulders with a shiver and then pulled at the covers he had gathered around in, cocooning herself in there with him. 

She aligned her body with his and pressed close, resting her chin on his shoulder. 

Han gave her a wary look. 

“Leia, you’re naked,” he pointed out huskily. “What’s – ahhhh,” he said, closing his eyes. He frowned, shaking his head – he kept having fleeting lapses of memory, and Leia was convinced it had something to do with him being unable to believe everything that had happened between them had actually happened. 

“Yes,” Leia agreed, smiling wryly. “We sleep together now,” she reminded him.

Han grinned a little, sleepy and still shivering. 

He put his head on her shoulder.

“Your skin feels rough,” he noticed.

Leia hesitated. 

“It’s sunburn,” she said. 

Leia winced as she thought of the angry red colour that had bloomed over her skin after she was out in the sun, nearly naked and utterly exposed on Jabba’s yacht. She shook her head involuntarily, trying to block out the nastiness of the past few days – Jabba’s distorted, gravelly voice seemed to echo in her hears, translated through Threepio’s cheery mouthpiece – _You belong to me. You are my slave._

She tensed, and forced herself to relax – it didn’t matter; he hadn’t done anything to her, he’d only threatened. It was a small price to pay to have Han back, and she could forget it in time.

Leia moved her hand through Han’s hair and held it against the back of his head. She closed her eyes lightly, thinking of Han instead – he was the only person she belonged to, and it was by her own choice. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will not make much sense unless you've read chapter one of the other assortment.

**Prompt: "Please write Mon and Leia having an awkward conversation about a sex tape."**

* * *

 

 

 

Leia checked the digital chrono on her desk quickly as she powered down her office – _early_ ; it was relatively early, and she only had one thing left to do today.

Mon Mothma had requested she stop by for a quick word before she went home, and Leia was sure it wasn’t anything serous, or the Chief of State would have set a more determined meeting time. Leia gathered her things and locked her office, venturing down the hall on the top floor of the old Imperial Palace -remodeled into the headquarters of the New Republic – to Mon’s office. 

She had, admittedly, already half-checked out for the day – it was rare for her to get an early evening, and she was already thinking about the possibilities for later; she could get ahead on some work, proofread some treaties, perhaps do some yoga, and then when Han got home – 

“Ah, Leia,” Mon said, warmly greeting her as she walked into the outer office.

The Chief of State was just sending a federal attorney on his way, and the being nodded politely at Leia as he left. Leia returned the smile, and followed Mon back into her private office – where, Leia was a little surprised to see, Mon shut the door delicately, and then flicked on a switch that ensured the room was protected against electronic monitoring. 

“Mon – is this a classified session? I was under the impression you only wanted a quick word – “

Mon Mothma waved her hand kindly,  but Leia thought she seemed extremely tense. 

“Nothing classified,” she remarked mildly, leaning on her desk and facing Leia politely. She placed one hand on her hip and the other clutched the edge of her desk as she looked at the Princess. “It’s more – well, ah, for your own protection.”

Leia blinked, taken aback, and arched an eyebrow, intrigued. 

“Right,” she said slowly. “You’ve got my attention,” she added dryly. 

Mon Mothma nodded. She considered Leia for a long time – uncomfortably, in Leia’s opinion – and then cleared her throat, and turned, delicately picking up a datapad from her desk. 

“Leia, I – I don’t mean to invade your privacy in any sense and you know well that I…have made it a point to respect your personal life, and the decisions made within it,” she said hesitantly. “General Solo has proved himself to be a fine husband, and I’ve retracted a lot of my opinions – “

Leia arched an eyebrow higher. 

“Mon, what on earth is going on?” she asked, exasperated. Had Han done something recently? Leia wasn’t aware of anything – 

Mon Mothma shifted anxiously, and cleared her throat again.

“Please understand that I – am only asking because if it becomes more, mainstream, ah – there will be political repercussions, and we’d all – you included – prefer not to be, ehm, blindsided – “

Leia had never heard Mon Mothma sound so flustered, and she was torn between laughing and calling for a medic. 

“–and I felt you might – well clearly, if this belongs to you, ehm, clearly someone you trusted with it is – not very trustworth – “

“Mon,” Leia broke in, eyes wide. “Forgive me for being harsh but – will you get to the point?” she shook her head. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mon Mothma bowed her head a moment, peering at the datapad in front of her. She lifted her head, raised her eyes to the heavens, and seemed to steel herself. 

“Leia, I asked you in here to inquire as to whether it’s possible that you – participated in an on camera – tryst – that make have made its way into the wrong hands.” 

Leia blinked once.

“What?” she asked, caught off guard. She understood all of the words but she was positive she’d misheard – 

“Did you and General Solo produce a sex tape?” Mon Mothma asked, in a more straightforward rush.

Leia was so quiet, and Mon Mothma fell so silent, that the vibration of oxygen molecules could practically be heard. 

After a moment, Leia blinked again, slowly, and sat forward, holding her hand up.

“Why are you asking me something like this?” she asked dangerously. 

She – did not take well to being confronted about her sex life by anyone, much less people who had been less than friendly to Han in the past – however, when Mon Mothma’s face blanched, Leia realized with horror that she probably should have immediately denied it, because Mon Mothma clearly interpreted that as an admission of guilt. 

“Leia, please tell me it’s not you,” she said in a strained voice. 

Leia’s brow darkened. 

“The – blue film – was brought to my attention by an aide – “

Leia held up a hand sharply.

“Let me get this straight,” she said shortly, “you think that I – filmed myself having sex with my husband and _publicly released_ it?”

Mon Mothma looked exasperated.

“I don’t know what to think, Leia; the woman looks very much like you!”

“They holos make ridiculous movies about public figures all the time!” Leia snapped. 

_“Yes,”_ Mon Mothma agreed, turning her datapad around and holding it out shortly, “but this woman,” she hit the play selection, “is nearly indistinguishable from yourself.” 

In a moment that – really was the stuff of nightmares – Leia found herself viewing a clip of what could only be referred to as hardcore pornography while the Chief of State, who she’d known since she was practically an infant, glared down at her about it.  Leia leaned forward and squinted, and then sat back, startled. Her eyes widened – because, to be fair, the woman in the film _did_ look like her. Quite – _quite_ a bit. 

However – 

“That man looks nothing like Han,” Leia said faintly. 

“ _His_ face is in the shadow most of the time,” Mon Mothma retorted.

“Did you watch the whole thing, Mon?” Leia asked sarcastically. She shook her head, wincing and turning her head. “It isn’t me,” she confirmed. 

Mon Mothma turned the film off, and set it aside, sighing harshly.

“You’re sure?”

Leia gave her a look of disbelief.

“I think I would remember,” she retorted.

“There’s no chance a private fantasy could have been – ah, exploited, if you were hacked – “

“Mon,” Leia said bluntly, “I’ve never had sex on tape. Hackers could pick apart my entire hard drive and there’s nothing to find.” 

Mon Mothma breathed a sigh of relief and that – annoyed Leia. She stood up, giving the datapad a distasteful look. 

“You ought to fire that aide,” she said tightly. “He or she would have had to go looking for that and I don’t think there’s space for any sort of – kinks like that,” she snapped.

Mon Mothma looked a bit ill, but also looked to be in agreement. 

“I – didn’t relieve believe it was you, but the resemblance – “

“As I said, the male looks nothing like Han,” Leia retorted. “And I’m sure you know I’d never participate in the production of a sex tape with anyone but Han.” 

Mon Mothma looked worried. Leia rolled her eyes – she had no intention of ever participating in such a thing. 

She nodded her head at the datapad. 

“If you must know,” she said stiffly, “I’ve never let Han do anything remotely similar to – _that._ ” 

“That’s alright, Leia,” Mon Mothma said quickly, faintly – “I don’t need any details.” 

Leia nodded firmly, feeling her face flush darkly – on the list of ways she didn’t want to end the day – and on the list of conversations she never wanted to have with someone who had politically mentored her since childhood –

She turned on her heel, and went to exit, keeping to herself an additional remark – that the man on that holovid was entirely to small to be Han Solo, anyway. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> file under: reasons Ben Solo turned to the Dark Side

**Prompt: “I think we need to talk.”**

* * *

 

Han Solo was not prepared to come home from a brief trip to find his home life in shambles, but his consternation was nothing compared to the complete and utter discomfiture his wife had been living with for the past few days.

She was a Princess, a Senator, a soldier, and once she’d been a faux bounty hunter – she’d encountered diplomatic situations stickier than tree sap in twin suns and thornier than Wroshyr trees in full bloom and she could negotiate any treaty, flatter any disgruntled dignitary, and she practiced political circumlocution  like nobody’s business – she could dismantle several types of bombs, drill a target with a blaster with better accuracy than some of the generals she’d served under – she could handle herself pretty well as a pilot in virtually any ship, and she could even feed a baby while presiding over ratification of a new constitution.

In short, she was extremely accomplished; she could handle anything.

Except this.

Her abilities to gracefully navigate unexpected situations came to a screeching halt when it came to her almost-teenaged son and a door that definitely should have been locked.

Or at least _closed_. He could have at least _closed it._

As it were – the incident that unraveled nearly all of her composed sensibilities occurred while both Han and Luke were off planet, so unless she wanted to go to someone only marginally close to the family – which she didn’t – she was forced to exist in a realm of pure mortification that consisted mainly of Ben refusing to come out of his room unless necessary, and refusing to look her in the eye when he did.

When Han returned, it didn’t take him long to figure out something was up; his son could be moody, but Ben was usually more combative towards him than he was Leia, and in the two days Han had been back, he’d heard Ben speak to his mother a mere three times.

And Leia was a whole different thing altogether – the final straw was when, at dinner, Leia called Ben to the table and he answered in a muffled, brooding voice that he wasn’t hungry – and _she dropped the issue and let him stay in his room._

Han had never encountered a situation in which Ben tried to refuse a family dinner and was allowed to – Leia valued their time together; the rule was that they were all extremely busy: they absolutely ate together when they were together.

Watching Leia push her food around, Han finally spoke up.

“Sweetheart,” he said pleasantly, giving her a pointed look. “I think we need to talk.”

To his surprise, she shrugged.

“Nope,” she answered succinctly. “Everything is fine. Situation normal.”

“Situation is not normal,” Han snorted. “Ben’s acting like you killed his pet and you’re walking on eggshells around him – what happened while I was gone?”

Leia put her utensils down and sat back. She reached for the glass of wine in front of her and looked at a point directly beside Han’s head, refusing to actually look at him. She took a sip of the wine, and shrugged.

“Ben doesn’t have a pet.”

Han gave her a look.

“See, something’s wrong – you forgot what figures of speech are.”

Leia smiled a little, and Han raised his brow, leaning forward.

“What’s going on?” he asked, waiting seriously for a response.

Leia set her glass down delicately and licked her lips, desperately wishing Han had been the one to walk into this all along – Han was his father, after all, this was his – department. Wasn’t it?

Leia had no clue. She’d had no brothers, no male cousins, she had no female friends who had sons, Luke had no children –

“Did he find out about Vader?” Han asked in a low voice.

Leia blinked. Without thinking, she said, vehemently:

“I _wish_ that was it.”

Han looked considerably shocked, and stared at her, mouth open. Hell, now he was even more interested – what could possibly be worse than Leia finally having that talk with Ben, or Luke finally spilling the beans, or –

Leia sighed, a resigned look on her face.

“A few days ago, I walked in on _your_ son,” Han winced – Ben must have really stepped in it, “in his room.”

Han frowned – entirely anti-climactic end to the sentence.

“How dare he?” Han offered slowly.

Leia gave him a gloomy glare.

“I want to preface this by saying I obviously would have knocked first if he had actually had the door _shut_.”

Han nodded, bewildered.

“I think _he_ thinks I’m angry at him,” she went on vaguely, “which is not the case, I just wasn’t – he doesn’t seem old enough – ”

“Was he in there with a _girl_?” Han asked, cocking his head. He did feel a little disturbed at that – Ben _was_ only twelve –

“No,” Leia answered.

Han paused.

“…boy?”

“No.”

“Alien,” Han tried.

Leia rolled her eyes, and looked at the ceiling.

“He was _alone_ ,” she said finally, emphasizing the last word.

Han gave her a blank look, and then he sat back, realization dawning. He arched his eyebrows at her, and Leia flushed, reaching for her glass again – except wine was too gentle, what she really needed was about ten shots of whiskey and probably some sort of memory wipe –

“What was he doing?” Han asked, biting back a grin.

“I think you know exactly what he was doing,” Leia snapped hastily.

Han laughed out loud.

“Yeah,” he agreed, having been an almost-teenage boy himself once, “but I want to hear you say it.”

Leia gave him an affronted look, her neck turning red.

Han gave her a teasing look.

“C'mon, Your Worship, this is priceless,” he drawled. “Poor kid – why the hell didn’t he have the door locked?”

Leia gave Han a distressed look.

“That is the question I have been dwelling on for five days,” she whispered, her words pained.

She leaned forward on her elbow and rubbed her head.

“Isn’t he young for this?” she asked, and Han almost lost his composure completely at the worried, uncertain look on her face. They were clearly at the point where the differences between having a boy or a girl were more pronounced than ‘it’s a kid and it’s cute.’

“No,” Han answered bluntly.

Leia scowled at him.

“He’s only 12 – ”

“Yeah, he’s a late bloomer,” Han joked.

Leia gave him a scandalized look, and he smirked at her.

“You need to talk to him,” she said shortly.

Han looked amused.

“What do you want me to do, give him tips?” he asked.

Leia looked _more_ scandalized.

“I want you to tell him to lock his door and…well, I suppose you need to talk to him about – respecting women. Or men,” she said faintly. “Whoever he's interested in. Whatever.”

Han gave her a skeptical look.

“He needs a sex talk,” Leia hissed at him.

“I think he’s figured it out, Leia,” Han retorted.

“Han,” Leia snapped. “Talk to your son. I don’t want to embarrass him.”

Han gave her a serious look.

“I’m gonna tell him if he doesn’t cut it out, he’ll go blind.”

“That’s not funny,” she growled. Her shoulders slumped. “ _You_ don’t embarrass him, either,” she ordered.

Han stood up, putting aside his napkin and grinning.

“Fine, I’ll go talk to him,” he said smugly. “He’ll starve if he keeps avoiding dinner, anyway – ‘course, I’ll remember to knock, Leia, since he’s probably in there right now – ”

“ _Stop_ ,” Leia said faintly, covering her face.

Han laughed at her discomfort. He stuck out his hand and waved his finger at her with mock solemnity.

“If he turns to the dark side, it will be because of this.”

Leia gave him a long-suffering look – hell, if she turned to the dark side, it would be because of _this._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of those angsty chapters I mentioned --

**Prompt: "I’m too sober for this."**

* * *

 

_“I’m too sober for this.”_

That’s what started it – a simple, sarcastic phrase, muttered in a nasty huff under royal breath. She’d slammed a fist against the side of the _Falcon_ , drawing a swear of outrage from its captain, and she’d disappeared from the cockpit, shoulders tight with frustration – the last thing he heard was a long rush of a sigh, exhausted, irritated, maybe even despairing.

He took offense to it – honestly, anyone with half an ego would, and he had a substantial ego. Besides – despite the less-than-savory situation, they were alive – _they were alive,_ and actually, fairly safe for the time being – so what if she had to live with him, just him, and Chewbacca, and Threepio, for damn near a month – so  _what_? 

_“I’m too sober for this”_ – she growled, when he calculated the route to Bespin, broke the news to her, and started matter-of-factly figuring out the logistics – rations, sleeping arrangements, water allotment – et cetera – and he’d watch her jaw line get tighter and tighter until she pulled back her lips in a growl and unleashed that –  _“I’m too sober for this.”_

He bit back such a harsh reply – _Sorry for saving your ass, your mightiness_ – and gnashed his teeth after her; he wasn’t happy either; she had no idea how nervous it made him to be in close quarters with her, and only her; she seemed to feel nothing but pure irritation towards him – he had to contend with how crazy she drove him in multiple ways – the way she infuriated him, the way she set his skin on fire when she happened to touch him, the way all of his quick temper with her was just a reaction to how badly he wanted to connect the right way, if he could just figure out what the right way was – 

The thing is, never in a million parsecs had he interpreted her sour little statement – _I’m too sober for this_ – in a literal way; he hadn’t anticipated her nicking a bottle of something-or-other from his liquor stores and self-medicating whatever unbearable thing she was feeling at the idea of drifting through space with him –

This was – this was _Princess Leia_ ; he’d never seen her touch more than a few tame sips of soft pink champagne; he’d never known her to drink whiskey at all, which was why she’d gotten so deep into the bottle before he left the cockpit to test her mood, see if she wanted dinner, and found her making her way through a sixteen-year-old Corellian scotch – 

A sight which had, in all fairness, delighted him, which he’d almost joined in on, until she looked up at him and he realized she was so far gone that her gaze was unfocused, and if that hadn’t clued him in, Chewbacca peered into the room behind him and growled – 

_[Han, that bottle_ was _full.]_

His growl was worried and low, and Leia reacted to it so painfully slowly that Han could tell instantly how drunk she was – his mouth went dry suddenly, because he hadn’t realized it had been a full bottle, and if it had been, she’d – she’d nearly drank – 

“Hey, what _the fuck_ are you doing?” he’d exploded – more out of panic than anything else, because that was a lot of alcohol for a little thing like her, and the last thing he needed was an alcohol-poisoned monarch on his hands, dead in the spare bunk while he tried to explain it to Rieekan – _well, you see, sir_ – 

Leia gave him a wide-eyed, sweet and startled look, mustered an angry glare, sharp tongued even when she was slurring – 

“Whatever _the fuck_ I want,” she’d shot back, mimicking his inflection.

Chewbacca let out a sharp rumble, and left Han, feeling it best not to gang up on her – 

Han’s swift move to take the bottle away from her was futile, she knocked his wrist away and shook her head, leaning back, her face pale. 

“Leia, give me that,” he’d ordered sharply – “Look, this shit is – it’s not for kids, alright?”

“I’m not a little girl,” Leia had snarled. 

Han grabbed the bottle and slung it back, catching it, holding it away from her. He shook his head, his brow furrowing. 

“You trying to kill yourself?” he’d snapped.

“I’m much better at drinking – than you think.”

Her words were so thick and syrupy, Theed Molasses poured through a sieve, and her eyes brightened, and dilated.

“Well, that ain’t somethin’ to be proud of, honey,” Han snapped sarcastically. He picked up the bottle and shook it pointedly. “You think this trip is going to be this bad?”

Leia got up, trying to shove past him – 

“Everything is bad,” she’d growled – her attempt to shove past him was useless, not even an effective shove; she stumbled towards a wall and when he tried to steady her, he received scratches on his wrists, her little resistance. 

Initial panic settled into a steady sense of fear – what was a drunk princess like, how sick was she going to get, _was_ this the first time she’d drank like this or was she more used to it than he expected – ?

The night had unfolded in slow motion, terribly slow, Leia sullen and withdrawn, sharp, antisocial speech, but no outrageous, uninhibited behavior; it was well into the sleep cycle before it all seemed to settle in at once – Han imagined her laying her head down and the world spinning upside down – he’d stayed up specifically for that reason. 

He’d never seen her sick, either, other than a red nose on Hoth, or a husky, sinus-ridden voice, and yet here she was, so _sick_. For a while she couldn’t keep down the water he gave her; he just sat with her in the ‘fresher, next to the sani, trying in vain to get clean fluids in her system. He gave up after too long, and slapped an electrolyte patch on her arm to prevent her from getting too weak – 

And he stayed with her, listening to her talk incoherently, about all sorts of things – _and I have nightmares, so you’ll have to get used to that – I wake up screaming, I can’t help it, it never goes away_ – it was an endless, slurred stream of all the things she was afraid of, idiosyncrasies and trauma, the typical – and because of what she’d been through, sometimes atypical – fears of living with another person, being that vulnerable – _I don’t want to live with you – you have this idea of me and it won’t survive living with me like this – Han I’m sorry, I feel awful –_

He wouldn’t let her go to bed for a long length of time, just in case she wasn’t done being sick. The retching slowly stopped, incidents of it fewer and fewer, like labour pains in reverse, and for a long time she was curled up on the ‘fresher floor, her forehead pressed into his knees, breathing shallow. 

He understood, to an extent. It was hard to be in close quarters with someone, constantly – especially if there were demons to be hidden, and there was nowhere on a ship like the _Falcon_ for them to hide. 

He kept running his fingers over the back of her head in a gentle, light massage, hoping it might easer her headache. He fell asleep on the ‘fresher floor, his head uncomfortably thrown back against the cold wall, Leia there in his lap. He slept just light enough that he’d wake up if her breathing changed – but it only got deeper, went from shallow and nervous to deep and restful. 

He got up, sore, in the morning, and took her into the bunk room, put her to bed, checked her mouth for breathing one more time – left her there to sleep more of it off. 

He’d found Chewbacca in the main hold, peering at the nearly empty bottle of scotch with interest. 

_[Is she okay?]_

“Shepuked for about three hours,” Han said hollowly. 

Chewbacc knocked his paw against the table, indicating the bottle.

_[I would expect so. I asked if she’s okay?]_

_Han shrugged._

“Physically, she’s not gonna die,” he said roughly. He sat down at the table, and slid forward, putting his forehead into his palms. “Chewie,” he said, and then paused. He swallowed hard, his shoulders tightening. “She’s…she’s so sad.”

It sounded stupid, but it was all he could think to convey it – and maybe, a simple, small world like that was enough. There were more grandiose ones, sure, but Leia was – oh, she was sad. Alderaan, her family, torture, this fight.

_[Yes]_ Chewbacca murmured softly. 

Han rubbed his face hard with the palm of his hands. 

“She told me she loves me,” he said into his hands, so thick and muffled that Chewbacca cocked his head – never had his superior hearing failed him, but – 

_[What?]_

“You heard me.”

Chewbacca’s eyes were wide – of course, he, and most other people, supposed the Princess felt that way but – even drunk, he couldn’t imagine her – without any indication from Han, at least not, not physical, or emotional indication – 

_[Have you been sleeping with her?]_ Chewbacca asked, confused – and how had he missed – ? 

Han let his hands fall.

“No, I haven’t touched her like that,” he said. 

His shoulders slumped. 

_[There’s very little problem here, as you are stupidly in love with her as well]_ the Wookiee grumbled pointedly. 

Han gave him an annoyed look. 

“She thinks I’m in love with that stuffy, picture-perfect, porcelain – “ he waved his hand vaguely, spitting out descriptions, “political princess – she thinks I’ll lose interest if I find out she’s – I dunno, a little busted up, or just left of _normal_ ,” he spat. “That’s what she was … fuckin’ rambling about with her head in the sani – “

Chewbacca sighed worriedly. 

_[I think very few people have loved Leia for Leia. Aside from her parents…very few people know her. She’s been under a lot of pressure.]_

“Well, now she’s gonna hate me ‘cause I saw her like that!” Han burst out. “I love Leia for – the stuff she’s got – under that – diplomatic shell.”

Chewbacca didn’t answer for a moment, and then he cleared his throat and tilted it towards the doorway, behind Han. 

Han turned – Leia, standing there, pale, small, her face blank, looking like she’d been through hell. She didn’t lower her eyes, she just, shifted her weight on her feet, cleared her throat. 

“Do you have…something for my head?” she ventured in a small voice, reaching up to touch it. 

Han got up without a word and went towards the medical bunk, coming back with two capsules that would take care of her pounding headache. She held them delicately in her palm, looking at them, looking at them – 

“Han,” she said. “Thank you for… I’m sorry,” she said faintly. 

_Thank you for dealing with that; I’m sorry I did … whatever I did._

“Drink some water,” Han answered quietly. 

Leia folded her capsules into her hand and looked up. 

“Did I say anything…revealing?” she asked.

Han looked at her for a beat. He lifted his shoulders, and shook his head innocently. 

“Nope.”

She looked relieved, a moment of panic gone from her eyes in a flash, and she nodded, as if she was unsure if that were possible, but glad her secrets were all still safe – and Han should have known she wouldn’t remember any of that, and he supposed it was kind to let her think she’d been silent, because he didn’t want her to put up walls and pull back from him, horrified that he’d been a witness. 

He wanted to figure out way to make her feel like she didn’t have to…hide. This was the Falcon, not headquarters with the big brass, and he didn’t give a damn if she wanted to drink – just so long as she never drank like _that_ again. 

Leia turned, paused, and then kept going, disappearing, and Han slammed a fist into the overhead when he heard her footsteps fall into utter silence. He closed his eyes tightly, and thought – stupidly – that he was too sober for this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-- to be continued in the next chapter. 
> 
> [Oooh, did Leia hear what he said?]


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, she did!

**Prompt: "I don’t want you to stop."**

* * *

 

Leia examined her nails – in such a confined space, and with such nerves constantly vibrating painfully in her spine, anxious and draped over tenterhooks, she’d bitten them down to the skin; her cuticles were red and irritated, and her pulse throbbed in her fingertips, chastising her. 

She pressed her hands together, palm to palm, tightly, parting her lips – she felt like a caged animal and clearly that anxiety needed to manifest in a different way – and until recently, mere days ago, she’d never have considered what she was considering, but so much of her had resisted her burgeoning emotions and spiraling self-control, and the fact that she was trapped with him – with Han – in this ship on a long haul across the stars seemed simultaneously like fate and a cosmic joke, and she felt the only way to regain some footing, some control of the situation, was to lay it out with a good, solid right hook, a proverbial smack down. 

Not physical, she had no intention of hurting Han – but after the total lapse of sanity, and sobriety, she’d displayed, and what she’d overheard – there was just too much tension surrounding them. It was miserable; the atmosphere seemed to physically ache. 

She closed her eyes lightly, pressing her head back against the wall. She’d been sitting on his bunk, waiting, for hours – keeping herself awake, determined; since that first night, since she’d – essentially poured a bottle of whiskey down her throat, then later overheard him stressing about her, – to put it lightly – he had come in well after he knew she’d be asleep.

She rarely was, but she’d listen to him breathe unevenly until he fell asleep, feigning her own rest until it was safe to lightly nap – it _was_ only light naps, and barely any real slumber, because she was afraid of startling him if she had a nightmare – 

“Oh.”

Han’s voice broke into her silence; he entered the cabin, stopped abruptly, and cleared his throat, awkward. 

“You’re awake,” he stated lamely. He pointed a towards the door, turning a little towards it, as if silently indicating he’d come back, yet again, when they could each pretend to pass each other wordlessly in the night –

“No,” she said, forcing the word out very quietly. “Han?”

He arched his brows at her in answer. 

“I think,” Leia began, taking a deep breath. “Will you sit down and talk to me?” she asked finally, her shoulders falling. 

Han tilted his head. He shrugged, and nodded, casually sliding his palm against the door to slide it shut. He took a few strides over and stood in front of her, and she sat forward, crossing her legs and leaning forward. She nodded at the spot near her on the bunk – _sit down and talk to me; this is important._

He sat down, and then of course, she found she couldn’t speak, or decide what she’d wanted to say in the first place. The words wouldn’t come, and she could feel her jaw tightening, her brow fighting to pull itself in a cool mask, lips shifting to form short, harsh words for him, to blame him for seeing her in a weak moment, or keep him at arm’s length for the sake of her constantly broken heart – 

“This about the other day?” Han asked. 

He made an effort to sound breezy – he wanted to sound cool, collected – all of those things she was so good at. He was doing his damnedest to make this trip as comfortable for her as possible, keeping up the charade that he hadn’t heard any of what she said – 

“Hey, Leia – ease up on yourself,” he said, flashing a forced, charming smirk. “Even Princesses get wasted sometimes.” 

Leia ran her hands lightly over her face. She hardly remembered anything – just the dizziness and the raging pain of the headache, nothing compared to the constant ache that was imbedded in her blood and muscles and in her very soul, and sometimes, in shallow dreams, Han quietly there with her, near the sani, putting her to bed – 

“I overheard you,” she said, looking down at her ankles.

She pressed her palms against them, bottoms of her feet touching each other, sitting in a flexible position while he stared at her profile. 

Han tilted his head.

“What, earlier today?” he asked gruffly. “Swearing at Threepio?” 

She bit her lip; shook her head. 

“Two days ago, in the morning,” she murmured. “I overheard what you said to Chewie.” 

Han fell silent. He picked at some of the stitching on the quilt, tugging it in his fingers. His lack of response indicated to Leia that he knew what she was talking about. She watched him, and finally he lifted his head up, a strange smile on his face – one she’d rarely seen before. It was a sort of – defeated thing, but not the _whipped_ kind of defeated, the kind that seemed to indicate he was glad the fight was over, and he was laughing at himself for getting into it. 

Han – for his part, didn’t know whether to immediately respond that he only said it because she’d said it first, and blow the narrative he’d constructed to protect her – continue going on as if he hadn’t heard all of her fears, hopes, and insecurities come pouring out with Corellian scotch and stomach acid – or to just – listen. 

In response, he rubbed his jaw. He laughed a little – short, lacking an edge of confidence. 

“What d’you want me to say?” he asked, turning his head to meet her eyes.

“I,” Leia started, her eyes locked on his, searching them desperately. “ _Why_ did you say it?” 

Han blinked, and for the first time she could remember, he looked so genuinely confused that she was taken aback. His face was bathed in a lack of comprehension so genuine it was was the textbook definition of incertitude. 

He shook his head at her in disbelief. 

“’Cause it’s true?” he retorted, gravelly voice, a sliver of annoyance creeping into his tone – as if he expected to be mocked, degraded. 

Leia licked her lips. 

“You said,” she went on softly, “that I’d hate you because you saw me _like that_ ,” she quoted. “Like that – sick?” Her eyes were wide, but intelligent, searching. “You said I didn’t say anything to you.” 

She was perceptive, reflecting back; he’d said – he’d said  _‘…now she’s gonna hate me ‘cause I saw her like that!’_ – and then – the word _love_ had come up, but it had weighed on her so heavily because Han had seen her get sick before, so what had he witnessed that was different?

Han looked at her helplessly for a moment, grit his teeth, and braced himself. 

“You talked to me the whole night,” he said finally, confessing. 

Leia’s face was pale, but resolved – her stomach felt shaky, full of dread; she’d suspected that even when he told her she hadn’t – 

“What did I say?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Everything,” Han said, his shoulders falling tiredly. “You didn’t want to sleep in a room with me ‘cause you have bad nightmares. I make you nervous.” He shrugged, uncomfortable repeating it. 

He held back for a moment, and then shrugged again. 

“You said you were in love with me,” he told her finally, trying to muster some bravado. “That means you cracked first,” he flashed a half-smile, searching for a reaction. 

He expected Leia to give him a look of horror or deny it, but instead she leaned back against the wall of the bunk and looked off to the other side for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. 

“I don’t think there was any possibility we’d get through this trip without you finding out,” she said unexpectedly. 

Han raised his eyebrows, and grinned a little. 

She closed her eyes, and did not re-open them until she turned her head back to him. Looking at his face, and the line of his jaw, she struggled for her next words. 

“I don’t hate you for seeing me like that,” she murmured. She took a deep breath. “It’s almost a relief. I’m tired of presenting myself perfectly – I’m so exhausted.” 

“Yeah,” Han said quietly. He nodded. 

Her face tightened as she tried to hold back tears. 

“I don’t want to be with you,” she said – so unconvincing. It was so unconvincing, and he was hoarse when he demanded – 

_“Why?”_ He shook his head, brow furrowed tightly.“ _Why,_ Leia?”

“Because,” she managed. “I like that you love me and,” she started, breaking off. She compressed her lips hard for a moment. “I don’t want you to stop.” 

He blinked at her, his head tilting curiously, painfully curious. She read the simple, straightforward questions in his eyes, and answered in a rush without even _thinking –_

“I’m difficult, Han, I’m just difficult – your life is fun, and carefree, and I’m, I need a lot of – I need stability, and something permanent, and you – you think I’d be worth it, but I am a  _nightmare_.”  _  
_

“ _Leia_ ,” Han said angrily. “You’re not a – you’re the last person I thought would talk about yourself like that – “

“I don’t mean I have low self-esteem,” Leia broke in hoarsely. “I know what I’m good at and I’m proud of my accomplishments but these emotional things I can’t control – “

“You can’t control everything, Sweetheart,” Han said flatly, “and with all due respect, what you know about my life is just a snapshot,” he sounded grim now, resigned, “it ain’t all been fun and _carefree._ ” 

Leia swiped her palms across her face, rubbing off tears. Han shifted, and sat next to her, reaching around her shoulders. The way she leaned against him, took his arm and held it to her stomach and curled into him automatically, was so fluid, a  _melting_ , even; she seemed relieved he’d finally reached out to touch her, and she was desperate to get some contact. 

She pressed her head against his chest of her own free will, and he held one hand against her forehead, holding her loosely enough to make her feel safe, resting his cheek on her head. 

“I meant what I said,” he mumbled firmly. 

Leia turned her face into his shirt tighter for a moment, and pulled away, sitting up. 

“I don’t want to say it again just yet,” she said. “I want to really remember it.”

Han nodded. Loose tendrils of her hair framed her face as she looked at him, and her lips trembled. She looked relieved, confused, apprehensive, disbelieving. 

She’d barely breached the boundaries of a physical relationship with this man – one kiss, one stolen, interrupted kiss, and they were here; talking love? She’d known him for three years, three long, brutal, increasingly intimate years, but weren’t they supposed to work to this point, and not – backwards from it?

Bloody hell, if the Death Star hadn’t eviscerated her ability to make sound and healthy emotional decisions – 

“What do we do now?” she asked, eyes on his. 

Han lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles across her jaw, tilting his head, his shoulders held up high, and strong. 

“We’ve got a while to figure it out,” he said gruffly – all the way to Bespin, they had and so – so _what_ if they’d skipped a hundred small steps, bounded over several milestones, and crashed directly into the scariest four-letter-word they could find? 

There was no pressure, no race to be the first to say it, or realize it, or commit to it – if they’d already fallen in love, there was nothing left to do but _be_ in love. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Prompt: "The diamond in your engagement ring is fake."**

* * *

 

Every single eligible bachelor with blue blood seemed to have taken it as a serious, personal affront that Leia Organa, Last Princess of Alderaan, had gone and married a so-called nobody with only a busted up ship and a hastily bestowed military title to his name. Despite her lack of actual genetic royalty – if there even was such a thing – she had always been a coveted piece on the proverbial aristocratic game board, but her wealth, and sympathetic political clout, was even more valuable after Alderaan’s destruction and with the advent of the New Republic.

Thus, she was unsurprised by the classist backlash, and she handled it with her usual grace – whereas Han found it hilarious in a way that bordered on his being _too_ smug. 

He’d taken to accompanying her to public social events just to be a lingering annoyance to all of the royal dignitaries who seemed to think Leia was possibly still available – who seemed to think she could still be convinced away from Han. 

The gala they’d been at tonight was no different; Leia had played her part as the charming, affable princess with a side of silver-tongued negotiator, Han had kept to the sidelines with Luke or with other military officials who were bored, unless he felt he needed to go cut in on a dance or stand menacingly near Leia while some fancy prince flirted with her. 

“What was that last guy talkin’ your ear off about?” Han asked, running his hand through Leia’s hair.

They’d escaped the gala at a decent hour, found their way home, curled up on the sofa – and Han methodically picked crystal-edged pins out of Leia’s hair until it came looser and looser. 

She laughed softly, turning her head – she lay across his lap, her head pillowed on his thighs, wrinkling her nice, iridescent-pale blue gown. 

“Jewelry,” she said.

“Hmm?” Han grunted, shoving pins into his pocket, shaking out her hair. 

She held up her hand, wriggling a finger that glittered dully with a simple gem on a silver band. 

“He was not satisfied with the ring I was given,” she said solemnly. “You see, if I’d have chosen someone from his house – him, I’m assuming – I could have been dripping in emeralds and rubies and topaz,” she listed, trailing off. 

She wriggled her finger again.

“He said – ‘ _The diamond in your engagement ring is fake_.’”

Han laughed. 

“As if I didn’t know,” Leia remarked, her lips turning up as she grinned. 

“What’d you say?”

“Well, I said – that I was well aware of that; it was only proper that I wear a generic symbol of marriage at a diverse social function,” she explained – and it was why she’d worn a stand-in ring rather than expose her actual token, because rings were a universal sign, and other indications were more personalized – 

And she and Han hadn’t gone with jewelry at all, anyway. 

“He seemed to think he was enlightening me, and I’d be so offended with you I’d divorce you immediately.”

“You show him the real ring?” Han asked.

Leia turned over, shaking her head. She removed the generic, stand-in ring – which was, in fact, a fake diamond, and slid it into Han’s pocket, holding her hand back up after a moment and splaying her fingers out to admire the lattice-like gold-ink tattoo that surrounded her let-hand ring finger. 

“Perhaps I should,” she murmured. “Then they’d understand theres really no chance anyone will change my mind.” She sighed. “You’re embedded in my skin.”

Han smiled, and moved his hand from her hair to intwine his fingers with hers, so a similar, lattice-like gold tattoo on his finger rested against hers.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which Han is having a small teeny panic attack.

**Prompt: “No one needs to know.”**

* * *

 

Han was still looking at her with wide, unblinking eyes, as if she’d just given him the biggest shock of his – well, actually, she supposed it was the biggest shock of his life, even though she did think, personally, that as a grown man with more than a little life experience, he probably should have been more aware that this could happen.

Leia sighed, and snapped her fingers gently in his face.

“It’s just that – there really isn’t much I can do about it, now, but I need you to tell me if you want me to do something about it,” she said, so vaguely that she was concerned she might be being _too_ vague.

He finally blinked at her, and she bit her lower lip uncertainly.

“The high command is likely to find out either way, but there’s a time constraint on termination – at least, there’s a time constraint concerning at which stage I’m willing to go through with it – ”

“What?” Han interrupted bluntly. “Hang on – what? What’re you talking about?”

Leia hesitated.

“I’m talking,” she said quietly, “about not going through with this if you don’t want – ”

“I don’t want you to do that,” he said abruptly. He gave her a strange look. “ _You_ want to do that?” he asked.

Leia swallowed hesitantly, and Han leaned forward, rubbing his forehead roughly.

“If you said you didn’t think you could get pregnant, and you _are,_ why would you want to – ”

“Because you don’t seem to be taking this well, Han, and I don’t want to do it alone,” she said, a sharp edge creeping into her tone. “A lot of people are going to be upset about this, and they’re going to make it hard on me, and I’m not going to go through it by myself.”

“I’m taking this fine,” Han mumbled.

“No, you’re not – ”

“Well, Leia, just give me a minute,” he snapped tensely. “You’ve known about this for days – I found out ten seconds ago! You can’t just come at me with four different logistical plans to choose from.”

Leia fell silent, and Han put his hands together, staring at them for a long time. He looked up, finally, and he didn’t look so blindsided anymore, but he looked less confident than she’d ever seen him look.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said seriously. “Okay? Just…get that out of your head.”

“What’s going through your head?” she asked, apprehensive.

Han rubbed his forehead again.

“Hell,” he swore. “Uhh, if I’m going to need to marry you now or later,” he mumbled.

Leia laughed, taken aback. She sat forward and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Han,” she soothed, running her hand over him gently. “I’m not worried about that.” She paused. “I want you to understand that…there are going to be people who won’t like this,” she said quietly. “And they’ll take it out on you, because they wouldn’t dare take it out on me.”

He knew exactly who she was referring to, and he grimaced. Grumbling to himself, he gave her a serious look, and shrugged.

“No one needs to know,” he said.

“Han.”

“Just don’t tell them,” he advised.

Leia arched her brows.

“Okay, but hear me out,” she said, equally serious, “at some point, I will have a baby.”

“So?”

“It will definitely be noticed.”

Han rubbed his face tiredly.

“I’m saying, what if we just never publicly talk about it,” he muttered, “because it’s our life, and we don’t owe anyone an explanation – ”

“That’s not realistic for me, for who I am,” she said softly, sadly.

Han nodded – he did not like the idea of facing all the attitude he was going to get for this. The looks he got just because he was often seen leaving her quarters were infuriating enough.

“Han?” Leia said again.

He looked up, and shrugged it all off – damn the high command, then.

“I want you to marry me,” he said firmly.

“Han,” she sighed, “that can be figured out later – ”

“No, it’s the one thing they aren’t going to dress either of us down for,” he said seriously. “They aren’t going to accuse me of dishonoring you, and they aren’t going to turn their noses up at you for bein’ knocked up out of wedlock – I don’t care if they’re stupid old rules, Leia, some people cling to ‘em. So when you tell ‘em about this, you can also throw it in their face that I married you. I did the right thing.”

Leia tilted her head, and smiled a little.

“How romantic,” she murmured.

He grimaced.

“I’m sorry, Leia,” he mumbled – it wasn’t, and they both knew it.

She leaned forward and slipped her hands into his hair.

“It’ll add a whole new dimension to their fury, you know,” she murmured.

“What will?” he grunted. “Marriage?”

She shrugged a little.

“No,” she corrected, “Leia Organa-Solo,” she noted. “They’ll be furious.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and to end this on a decidedly sad note --

**Prompt: "Does he know about the baby?"**

* * *

 

Leia was hyperaware of Luke’s presence in her apartment. She’d been relying on him heavily for the past few days, and her ability to place unwavering trust in him was the one thing that made all of this easier. 

Curled up in a tight ball on the couch, a swath of self-heating cloth spread over her abdomen, she watched the news to see what she had missed in her absence, and listened to Luke talking softly but cheerily to Ben in the kitchen. 

She could hear Ben’s quiet laughs, and the sound of his feet was soothing, if a little painful. She heard the water running, Luke loading the dishwasher, the sound of a com-link, then a quiet conversation. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them to a soft sound of rushing air, she found Ben standing in front of her, little and unassuming, leaning against the sofa with his face close to hers. 

He held up a cup with a straw in it, a child-proof lid preventing it from spilling on her. 

“Water,” he said gently, using his whisper voice. Luke had been warning him to use a whisper voice all day, since this morning, when they’d left the Med Centre.

Leia lifted her head and took a sip, smiling at Ben. She leaned forward to ruffle his head, and kiss his temple. 

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. 

Ben set aside his cup and crawled up on the couch with her. He gently climbed over her legs and perched himself on her hip. He wasn’t too heavy at four years old, but she shifted all the same, favoring her ribs and her stomach protectively. She said nothing to him; he was comforting. He fixed his eyes on the holo, and then started playing with his mother’s hair. 

His eyes grew wide. 

“Oh, Mama,” he said, pointing at the being speaking on screen. “Look; Bacca!”

Leia smiled tiredly. 

“That’s a different Wookiee,” she corrected gently. “See the dark red markings near his eyes? Bacca doesn’t have those.”

“Oh,” Ben said, patting her head. "I love the Baccas."

“Ben?”

Luke came into the room looking for him, frowning carefully when he saw him sitting on Leia. He approached, holding his hands out. 

“Come here,” he said, kind but authoritative, and Ben reached out for Luke to take him. “Hey, little guy, no sitting on Mommy, okay?” he said. He smoothed Ben’s head down. “Why don’t you give her a kiss goodnight. I think it’s bed time.”

He looked at Leia for confirmation, and Leia nodded. She sat up, and Luke crouched down so Ben could give her a kiss. 

“’Night,” he said pleasantly. He pointed to his cup. “You keep my water,” he advised. 

“Thank you,” she said again.

Luke shared an encouraging look with her, and carried Ben off to bed. Leia moved her arm under her head on the armrest of the couch, turning her face into her elbow. Her head was killing her, and some of the vitamins she’d been given were making her nauseous and groggy.  Luke wasn’t gone long; Ben was fairly easy to get down for bed, and he seemed to recognize the need for solemnity even though no one had really told him what was going on. 

She was watching the holo without taking any of it in when Luke sat a cup of tea down near her and then sat on the floor beside the coffee table, crossing his legs in that monk-like way of his. 

“Han’s almost back,” Luke began calmly. “That was him, on the com-link.”

Leia averted her eyes, and Luke leaned forward, resting his hand on the couch near her elbow. 

“Leia, why do you have so much guilt over this?” he asked perceptively, his eyes soft and sympathetic. 

When his sister had clearly not wanted to discuss the issue, Luke had respected that, but since he’d come home with her this morning, he’d sensed tension in her and Han’s home that he’d never quite felt before, and and it was lingering even though Han had been gone for weeks. It didn’t feel right. 

“Han’s not going to blame you,” Luke said. “This isn’t your fault.” 

Leia shifted onto her back, her hand falling to her abdomen anxiously. She shook her head. 

“Luke, this is what we’ve been fighting about,” she said hoarsely, closing her eyes. 

Luke’s brow furrowed, but he stayed silent. How could they specifically have been fighting over – and what was there to fight about – ?

“You working too hard?” Luke guessed. “You didn’t do anything different than you did with Ben,” he went on slowly. 

“No,” Leia corrected edgily. “He didn’t – fuck,” she swore, breaking off roughly. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “We’ve been arguing over it for a year. Having another one.” 

She shook her head again, her words trembling – “ _I_ didn’t want another one.”

The words were so bitter on her tongue – _well, you got what you wanted, didn’t you, Leia?_

“Ah,” Luke said quietly, tilting his head. “Why not?” he asked curiously. “You and Han have plenty of money, you love Ben – “

“Yes, that’s the point he keeps making, _I love Ben_ ,” Leia quoted, her voice growing nasty. “As if me not wanting another baby means I _don’t_ love Ben.”

Leia swallowed hard, swearing hoarsely under her breath.

“I _do_ love Ben,” she said, and the sincerity in her words, and her feeling, was so overwhelming Luke turned his head away for a moment to dampen his perception. “I feel like I’m drowning. It’s not Han’s fault, and it’s not Ben’s fault, it’s that I already feel like I can’t be good enough for _Ben_.”

Leia licked her lips.

“And he’s only one, and he’s a good boy, but this is so hard. And every move I make is so precarious. I feel like I’m raising him on a fragile scale, and if I mess up – if  _Han_ and I mess up – it all goes to one side, and he turns out like Vader – “

“Leia, Leia,” Luke interrupted earnestly. He sighed, shaking his head. He took a deep breath, resigned. “I think you should have come to terms with Vader before you had a baby.”

“I didn’t have _time_ ,” Leia reminded him. 

“I know,” Luke agreed. 

Leia closed her eyes, moving her head back and forth – she’d been told numerous times that, due to the chemical exposure on the Death Star, she’d likely have trouble getting pregnant, but the real problem had turned out to be a hormonal imbalance so abnormal that the right birth control regimen was difficult to pinpoint, and it didn’t always stick. It was why she’d gotten pregnant with Ben so unexpectedly, and it was why it had happened again, now. 

“Han _knows_ I didn’t want another one,” Leia breathed out wearily. “He’ll think – I don’t know; he'll think that I kept it from him on purpose.”

Luke frowned.

“You’re saying – does he know about the baby?” he ventured.

Leia turned her head, her eyes red, her mouth falling into a thin line, and Luke sighed, bowing his head.

“ _Did_ he know?” he asked, correcting his tense. 

Leia shook her head, chewing on her lip. 

“ _I_ didn’t know,” she said. “I found out after he left for Nkllon.” She took a shaky breath, smiling grimly. “We parted on bad terms.” 

“I thought you and Han agreed never to part on bad terms,” Luke said gently. 

“We did,” Leia confirmed. “But,” she lifted one shoulder. “There was something wrong about the way we said _I love you_.” 

Luke nodded – he supposed he understood that. If they’d been in the middle of a difficult period, and he’d had to leave – well, without things completely resolved, it was hard to be purely affectionate. 

“And you didn’t reach out to him – ?”

Leia gave a harsh sigh, casting her eyes down.

“He was hurtling through hyperspace, and I was taking care of Ben and handling those refugee issues, and I needed time for it to settle in – and then,” she shrugged; there was no need to tell Luke anymore, he’d been the primary caregiver for Ben while Leia spent time in the Med Center.

Luke reached for her hand and ran his hand over his jaw. 

“Han’s not going to think you did anything wrong,” he said firmly. “Han’s just not like that.” 

Leia tilted her head back against the pillow, saying nothing. 

“Luke,” she began. “You don’t think the Force – sensed my reluctance – “

“No,” Luke broke in, firm but kind. “It’s takes an act of concentrated ill will to manipulate the Force in a way that ends life,” he said. “It’s a very deliberate act of aggression.”

Leia breathed out, her eyes on the ceiling.

“You would’ve had to have wanted to kill,” Luke said, “and no matter what you were going through, I don’t think you wanted that.”

“No,” she agreed. 

She cleared her throat. 

“Was Han – “ she began.

She was cut off by the telltale clicks of the apartment door opening, unlocking in the way it would only if the other authorized occupant was home. Leia swallowed the rest of her words, her eyes on Luke. He smiled at her and stood up fluidly, putting his hand on her forehead for a moment. 

Han came around the corner, shedding his military jacket as he did – Luke was the one who had made contact with him even in hyperspace, and been able to get him to turn around and get back. A different general was replacing him in the Nkllon mission. 

He barely spared a glance for his brother-in-law. It took him two strides to cover the living room, and he went down on one knee near Leia’s head, putting his hand on her cheek, and moving it down her neck to her chest, feeling her feverish skin.  He’d hardly been thinking straight since Luke called. He hadn’t thought twice about turning around, and Rieekan had understood why he dropped out mid-mission. He knew no matter what, he needed to be home, and no matter what she said on this topic, she’d be hurting.

“I’ve got it from here, Luke,” Han said gruffly, nodding at the kid – he appreciated everything Luke did, and he’d thank him better later, but right now only Leia mattered. 

He turned his head to nod as Luke stepped back and offered his condolences – Han swallowed hard; Luke’s voice always sounded so different in person than it did over electronic venues, so different here than it had when he’d first called – _Hey. Leia’s alright, Han, okay? You need to come home, though. She had a miscarriage._

Han reached over her and rested his arm over her ribcage lightly, leaning forward to press his forehead to hers. 

“I’ve got you, Sweetheart. It’s okay,” he said. He kissed the bridge of her nose, her eyelashes. “I love you.” 

Leia reached for his hand, her words stuck in the back of her throat. He pulled her into a hug, and tucked his head into her shoulder. Leia closed her eyes in relief – even if he hadn’t said anything, his presence would have soothed her. They may _have_ parted on bad terms, but when he knelt down and looked at her, all of that animosity was gone, and he was purely concerned, and she remembered why it was always worth it to hang on even when they were fighting.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i probably need to extend this into more of a story on its own, honestly.


End file.
